


That No One Wants to Believe

by Silvarbelle



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvarbelle/pseuds/Silvarbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The truth is, Rodney, that I would’ve felt a little bad about shooting those clowns – but not <i>that</i> bad.  I’d have chalked it up as an unfortunate thing, but I wouldn’t have let it rip me up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	That No One Wants to Believe

**Author's Note:**

> So, hey! Sequel to "Prime Suggestion." Neither of these stories is intended as a 'Fix It' to the SGA episode "Irresisitble," which I hate beyond all reason. I just like writing the characters the way I see 'em. XD
> 
> Thanks be to Popkin16 for beta-reading this! You rock mah socks off, mah dear! *smoochies galore*
> 
> Title comes from this: “A fact is a simple statement that everyone believes. It is innocent, unless found guilty. A hypothesis is a novel suggestion that no one wants to believe. It is guilty, until found effective.” - Edward Teller

Jack O’Neill showed up on Atlantis with a case of beer, two fishing poles, and a bucket of bait.

John, along with every other military asset in the Gateroom, saluted the General as soon as O’Neill had appeared; beamed down by the Daedalus. Inwardly, he sighed. He wondered what part of this had rated his assessment being done by a general. Was it the fact that he was the commander of Atlantis’ military contingent? Was it because of the strength of his ATA gene? Or was it because of the black mark in his jacket – always weighed twice against whatever good he’d accomplished?

“At ease,” O’Neill ordered, an affable expression on his face. He lifted the case of beer in his right hand and waggled it. “Don’t worry, soldiers – plenty more where this came from; _Daedalus_ will beam it down in due time.”

“HOO-AH!” The triumphant cry ripped from the throats of more than a few Marines.

John put a charming smile on his face as he said, “That’s very kind of you, General. I’m sure the boys – and girls – will appreciate it.”

“They damned well better. Do you know how difficult it is to keep a ship’s crew from bogarting beer? You’ve never heard such whining,” O’Neill muttered, walking over to join John at the base of the Gateroom stairs.

Sheppard snorted. He knew full well the _Daedalus_ crew wouldn’t have touched those supplies – not unless they wanted to deal with Atlantis’ soldiers storming the castle, so to speak, in an act of justifiable revenge.

“Staying long, sir?” he asked, hoping the answer was ‘Actually, I’m leaving in about ten seconds’ and resentful that it wouldn’t be.

“Just long enough to kick back, catch a few rays and a few fish – hopefully nothing too ugly – and unwind. Got a lot of pots on the stove back home, but nothing that can’t sit and wait for me to catch a breather.”

John didn’t doubt it. Being the commander of Homeworld Command had to be paperwork hell, as far as he figured. Sheppard used to daydream about making rank to Brigadier General someday, but he’d learned that the higher up the chain of command, the more paperwork there was waiting when a soldier got there. He was really very sure he’d rather quit the Air Force than fly a desk through a paper storm.

“Well, we’ll do what we can to make your regrettably brief stay a good one,” John said with a smarmy grin.

O’Neill gave him a squinty-eyed glare. “’Ass-kisser’ looks ridiculous on you, Colonel.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That translates as ‘stop doing it’.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

Jack rolled his eyes and started up the stairs while John’s soldiers snickered at their CO’s audacity.

John turned on his heel and followed his general up the stairs.

 

*~*~*~*

 

“You’re not here to mess with him, are you?”

Jack turned from his perusal of something Ancient-y and complicated that was meant to be art in the atrium he’d found while walking around. Rodney McKay stood a few feet away, glaring at him.

“Why, hello there, McKay!” said Jack, his tone jovial in the extreme. He forced a great big ‘so happy to see you’ smile on his face simply because he knew the perkiness would piss the other man off. “I’m doin’ good, thanks for asking.”

“Yes, yes, yes – never mind the fake pleasantries,” McKay snapped. “What are you planning to do to Colonel Sheppard?”

“Do to him?” Jack hedged, eyebrows raised in an expression of innocence.

McKay’s scowl strengthened, his mouth curling back on a snarl. “He’s been through _enough_ about this. That it happened at all—“

“Wouldn’t have happened if you’d exercised some rational thought and not pulled the initial prank on him – at least not in front of most of Atlantis,” Jack said, dropping the cute act.

Rodney paled, his fury draining away with an uncharacteristic expression of shame.

“I – well,” the scientist said, stiffening his spine even as he lifted his chin. “There is that.”

Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he let his hand drop and met Rodney’s gaze directly.

“I’m not here to censure him, McKay,” Jack said, his voice low. “He submitted a thorough report and so has Doc Heightmeyer – but someone who’s been there needs to assess him.”

“And if he’s found to be a threat?”

“To himself or anyone else because of this incident, then, yes – action will be taken.” O’Neill lifted a hand to forestall Rodney’s complaints. “Between you and me: I don’t see that happening. Yeah, it’s obvious Sheppard’s on edge, but if he couldn’t handle it at all, he’d have snapped by now.”

Rodney frowned. “He _did_ draw down on them.”

Jack grinned. “Of course he did. It’s a natural reaction, especially with Sheppard’s documented loyalty issues.”

At that, Rodney winced. He, personally, knew how much John valued loyalty. If John hadn’t, then Rodney would have died on Doranda when Arcturus blew up.

Jack rolled his head on his neck; bones creaked audibly. He sighed. “McKay, if you wanna help him, ‘bearding the lion’ ain’t the way to go about it. Do me a favor – do _Sheppard_ a favor – and just stay out of the way and let this happen, alright?”

Rodney closed his mouth and nodded, frowning with worry.

“And no more pranks in front of the entire damned city,” Jack growled, walking past the scientist as he exited the atrium. “You have no idea the song-and-dance Carter had to go through to keep you from facing a review board for that lapse in judgment.”

Behind him, he heard a shocked sputter, followed by, “Sam? Really? No – _really?_ ”

Jack snorted and kept going.

 

*~*~*~*

 

John sighed as he sat on the west pier. The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, and the sky overhead was a perfect blue decorated with the occasional white cloud drifting past. The ocean shushed and slapped rhythmically against Atlantis’ metal supports and the salty tang of the sea flavored the air. He had a cold beer, the mess had provided a bucket of hot wings – the not-chicken of PX2-EM6 worked really well for those – and O’Neill had barely said three sentences to him since they’d settled down with fishing poles to catch absolutely _squat_ an hour or so ago.

“McKay nearly tore my head off to shove it up my ass.”

The statement from O’Neill came just as John had lifted the can to his mouth and was in mid-swallow. John spewed beer in a very pretty arc, he then coughed hard to clear his sinuses, throat, and lungs.

When he calmed down, he turned to glare at the other man through his sunglasses. O’Neill had a smirk on his face.

“Okay…” John muttered, flushing hot and red with embarrassment. “How fired am I?”

“For something somebody else did? Oh, please.” Casually, Jack flicked the pole he’d primed and the baited hook went sailing out on a long thread of fishing line to plop into the sea several feet below them.

John sighed. “Thank you, sir. Just tell me he didn’t actually _threaten_ you with anything.”

“Oh, he didn’t. McKay doesn’t work like that, anyway. Should’ve seen what he did to us for sending him to Siberia. Didn’t make a peep of warning or posturing or whatever. Just packed his bags like a good little soldier and took off to leave us with malfunctioning _everything_.”

“Good Christ on Toast,” Sheppard muttered, and ignored Jack’s snicker. “Why isn’t he sitting in a jail somewhere for that?”

“Couldn’t prove it was him, even if we all knew it unofficially. He’s a loudmouthed snotmuffin, but when he decides to actually smite someone or something… hoooo-boy.”

John snorted and smiled. He flicked his own fishing pole, sending out a freshly baited hook. “Yeah… sounds like him.”

“He was worried I was here to screw you over; probably still is.”

“Are you?” John asked, his voice tight.

“Do you need to be?” Jack asked, glancing at him.

John tightened his grip on the fishing pole. “I almost shot ‘em. I would have, if Ronon hadn’t stunned me.”

“Aha!” O’Neill crowed. “About that! I _like_ that young man! He writes the sweetest reports I’ve ever read.”

Sheppard smiled. “Three sentences at most and tells you everything you really need to know: ‘Went to planet. Got in trouble. Shot the trouble. Came home. The end.’”

Jack sighed like a princess in a romance flick. “God bless aliens. Really.” 

“Well… the ones on our side, anyway.”

Jack pointed at him, most of his fingers curled around a can of beer. “Keep thinking like that, Sheppard, you might make General someday.”

John shuddered and knocked back the entire can of beer. He set aside the empty, cracked a fresh one, and chugged half of that, too.

“Hey! I’m an old man; bad knees. Go easy on the beer, will ya?” O’Neill groused. “I’d hate to have your Marines haul you to quarters with you looped out and giggling.”

John snorted. “No need to worry. When those – when Jones gave the cancellation command, he told me to behave, for the rest of my life, as if I were never under the influence of anything _ever_.”

Jack was silent for a moment. Then: “No more getting drunk?”

“No more getting drunk. I could kill my liver with alcohol poisoning, but I’d be able to recite the Major-General’s Song from _The Pirates of Penzance_ without a single hiccup.”

“Well, hell – I should go get that done, ‘cause if anyone’s gonna quote that song, it’s gonna be me,” Jack muttered.

“Better get to it before they promote you again, sir,” John replied. “Try to get the dosing without monkey orders, though. If your knees are really that bad, then they won’t take cavorting all over a Gateroom.”

“Was it that or the being-tricked-into-kissing-McKay thing that made you pull a weapon on them?” O’Neill asked. “By the way, I hear you named yours.”

“Don’t all men?” John retorted with a smirk.

Jack snorted. “Cute, Sheppard. Answer the damn question.”

“It wasn’t the things they made me do. Well… maybe a little bit. Mostly, it was that they did _anything_ to me at all. They say they got the idea to do it because McKay did it. What I let _him_ get away with is a far remove from liberties other people are allowed.”

“Because you’re allegedly ‘in love’ with him? And, also: _McKay?_ ”

“What _about_ him?” John snapped back.

“Just, if ya hadda have a scientist, why not that Zelenka fella? He’s not pissy like McKay. And the fuzzy-gnome thing he’s got going on is kinda cute.”

John groaned. “When asked, I will lie my ass off and say you never once asked me or told me anything of a personal nature.”

Jack grinned. “You do that. Besides, unofficially: it’s the SGC, y’know? We have bigger things to worry about than some stupid regulation that’s really doesn’t matter in the long run. Anyway: answer?”

“Question?”

“Will be changed to ‘Do you know how to swim?’ if you don’t get on with it.”

John sighed. He reeled in the line, set the fishing pole aside, and then leaned back on his hands. He kicked his feet idly, letting them swing as he considered his words.

“I’m not defending my attraction; just not going there,” he said, finally. “As to the rest of it: I let Rodney get away with a metric ton of shit because he’s team, he’s my _friend_ , and he’s under _enough_ pressure from self-imposed standards, professional standards, expectations, fears, and the like. He’s got enough to deal with. He doesn’t need me being a complete jerk to him on top of everything else. So, yeah… crap I would ream anyone else for, I let him get away with.”

“But Jones, Khalil, and Dackins?” O’Neill asked softly.

“I barely knew who they were. I mean: I was aware of them on a security level. I knew they existed, what their function was, and that they were in the city. But I never spent any time with them. We weren’t even _acquaintances_ , let alone buddies of any kind. Still, they were Atlantis personnel and we’re out here in a fucking _war zone_. We should be able to count on each other to watch our backs. Some pranking is fine, expected, but nothing like _that_. They _compromised_ me. I’m the _military commander_ of this base and they _compromised_ me for their own fucking amusement. If it had been… no – not _even_ if it was a culture off-world. I _did_ consider it an act of war by the three of them and responded accordingly. I’d have shot them down and kept shooting them if Ronon hadn’t interfered.”

“Be grateful he did,” Jack cautioned. “He thinks the sun shines out of your ass, Sheppard. His report was short, sweet, and to the point. He said he did it because he knew you’d be upset about killing them eventually; that, personally, he’d have let you do it if not for that, except maybe not because Earth authorities can be stupid about some things and he thought we might have maybe arrested you or at least removed you from Atlantis and that would suck for everybody.”

John blew out a rough breath. “That… yeah.”

“Are you mad at him for stopping you?”

John was silent for a few moments before saying, “A little yes, a little no.” He finished off his current beer and cracked open another one. “Killing them would have been considered a crime of passionate fury.”

“But a killing they deserved,” Jack said, his voice quiet; “at least for a little while.”

“Mmmm. Until I acknowledged to myself that they’d just been stupid; criminally so, but still… just stupid, and not _really_ malicious – it only ended up that way, felt that way.” He took several swallows of beer. “I still hate them for doing it to me. Seriously: hate. If I ever see them again, I promise I won’t shoot. I’ll just start throwing punches.”

“Which is why you _won’t_ see them again, inasmuch as we can control their movements. They’ve been let go from the program, they have bird-dogs, and they are on the shit list of military and science alike.”

John blushed. “All that fuss over li’l ol’ me.”

“For abusing one of our own.”

John didn’t reply.

They were silent for a few moments as they ate a few hot wings and drank some beer.

Finally, O’Neill asked, “What McKay did with the coercion herb… why didn’t you kick his ass for it? Hell, for that matter, why didn’t you kick his ass for the Arcturus thing?”

“What the hell does Arcturus have to do with the prank? …Sir.”

Jack snorted. “An abuse of trust, both instances.”

John’s lips flattened together as he bit back an angry retort. After a while, he said, “I don’t see it that way. The prank was just him being goofy with a friend he knows won’t be cruel or hateful to him. He trusts me. He’d never allow himself to be so vulnerable with me as he does if he didn’t.”

Jack nodded. “But Arcturus?”

“It wasn’t trust; I simply _expected_ him to care more about my life – about his own – than being the shiny hero of science for solving the problem the Ancients had left behind. I assumed he would put me first ahead of everything and that was stupid of me. He cares about me – I know he does – but proving his worth will always matter more.”

“He knows how much he’s worth,” Jack muttered.

“I don’t think he does.”

“How do you mean?”

“He only ever brags about what a _genius_ he is. He only ever goes on and on about how awesome and wonderful his intelligence is, how superior his brain is. He doesn’t really say anything about how great he is as a person. But, you’re right in that he does know his worth as a _resource_. The problem is that he acts like he’s only as good as the work he can do, so he’s always gotta be better and better because if he isn’t…”

Jack sighed. “Part of why you let him get away with so much crap?”

“Yeah,” John muttered. “I mean, when he pranked me with that herb… okay, yeah, I was pissed off he’d made me clean his room; that he dosed me with it even after everything we’d just gone through with Lucius Luvin. But he respected me enough to never get _personal_ with it – not like those bastards that dosed me.”

“And then you got McKay back for it?”

“I got him back for it. I made his laptop start-up theme music the moans and groans from a porno – just before we were all due for a department head meeting.”

Jack grinned. “Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.”

John snickered. “He turned two different colors at once: white and red. I _still_ don’t know how he managed it. I thought that was impossible! Then, he turned up the volume and stared right at me while he invited everyone to listen to my personal ‘when flying aircraft’ soundtrack.”

“From the grin on your face, it’s a fond memory.”

“It is. I mean: I get that you don’t think McKay would be anywhere in a fond memory, but there ya go.”

“No, I hear ya.”

They went silent again as they finished off the hot wings. Finally, John said, “Sir… I’m not whacko about this. I accept that what happened – happened – and I’m really lucky I’ve got friends that can think for me when I can’t.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” O’Neill muttered. “Still, you know you have to finish the mandatory counseling, right?”

“Yes, sir,” John groused.

“Great. You also have to meet with an IOA board, but that’ll be a cinch.”

John sighed. “If you say so, sir.”

“I do say so. And see if you can’t get a handle on McKay – not _that_ way, don’t give me that look. Just see if you can’t keep him from snarling at Generals for a while. I thought for a moment I was facing off against the fucking Sarlacc.”

“Nah; he doesn’t have the patience to digest you over a thousand years. He’s more like a Tasmanian Devil – the real one _and_ the cartoon one,” John replied with a grin.

“But he’s _your_ devil?” Jack shot back.

John sighed and lifted his face to the sun. “In a manner of speaking: yup – horns and all.”

“I don’t get it,” O’Neill muttered, “but whatever baits your hook, Johnny-boy.”

 

*~*~*~*

 

“So, ah….”

John sighed. With his arm still draped over his eyes, lying on his bed, he muttered, “You break into my quarters just to say two words, McKay?”

Rodney gave a sputtered, petulant growl, and then said, “Forgive me for not knowing a gracious way of asking ‘Do you still have your job as Atlantis’ military commander?’”

“For one thing: you’re _not_ gracious, you’ve never _been_ gracious – so why start now?”

“Excuse—“

“For another,” John added, talking right over McKay, “the question wasn’t rude or tactless; it was straight and to the point. And since you’ve asked: yes, I’m still Atlantis’ military commander. O’Neill’s report, Heightmeyer’s report, and my interview with the IOA board both worked in my favor.”

“Well… good.”

“As did the thirty-thousand letters of commendation from you, extolling virtues I didn’t even know I had – although the IOA presumed bias on both our parts.”

Peeking out from beneath his arm, John watched as Rodney flushed bright red and fidgeted.

“You exaggerate,” said Rodney, his tone gruff. “I only sent _three_ , not thirty-thousand.”

“How many more would there have been if Elizabeth hadn’t made you stop?”

Rodney sighed. “As many as it took to keep you here.”

“Even if I might draw down on you,” Sheppard sneered.

“Haven’t done it, yet. In fact, one of the first betting pools was on how long it would be before you gave in to the urge to shoot me.”

“Who won?”

“Nobody,” Rodney snorted. “Not one person considered ‘never’ as an option.”

“Except that I did.”

“What? When?”

At that, John lifted his arm from his face and frowned at the other man. “You don’t remember testing the personal shield?”

Rodney flapped a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t count; the parameters were shooting me in anger and to shut me up.”

John grimaced and sat up. Swinging his legs over the side, he set his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Too bad nobody bet on me shooting any _other_ annoying scientists,” he grumbled. “They could’ve made a killing.”

McKay snorted. “Yes, very clever play on words. Of course nobody would bet on such a thing! You work hard to protect all of us—“

“Except the ones that play stupid pranks!” John snapped, rising onto his feet. “Or do you not recall how I pulled Maybelle on them?”

"Oh, _what_ – suddenly, you're Saint John the Pure?” Rodney yelled, stepping closer to him. “Like you've _never_ killed anyone before? Let's just ask the fifty or so Genii you closed the 'Gate shield on what they think about that? The three Genii you lured to a small room and slaughtered with your P-90? Or—“

Rodney winced, but lifted his chin to glare at John when Sheppard lashed out, clamping his hands with bruising force on McKay’s upper arms. He continued to glare even as John shook him roughly.

“They were non-combat personnel!” John shouted into Rodney’s face. “They were stupid jokers and I damn near killed them for it!”

“So? You’ve killed other people for less stupid things!” Rodney shouted back.

John let go and leaned away, tipping his head back while a bitter laugh growled from his throat.

Rodney, misinterpreting, shook his head; waved his hands in sharp gestures. “No! No, that – God, I’m so bad at this. Why can’t it be someone else doing this?”

“Why are _you_ doing this?” John snapped, focusing on McKay again. “What _is_ ‘this’, anyway, that you think it needs doing?”

“I’m trying to keep you from letting any unnecessary guilt eat you alive!” Rodney shouted. “I’m doing it because we’re friends! I’m doing it because I’m afraid for you!”

John blinked, blinked again, and then sighed as he closed his eyes. He reached up to rub the back of his neck for a moment, trying to order his thoughts. Finally, he let his hand drop and he tried to quirk a smile at the other man.

“What do you think I’m gonna do, Rodney?” he asked, his voice quiet. “You think I’m gonna eat my gun or something?”

McKay flinched even as he went terribly pale. “Don’t say that. Don’t joke. It’s not…”

“Funny, I know,” John murmured, and he put his hands on Rodney’s arms again. He didn’t squeeze; simply held on, the gesture meant to comfort. “Buddy, I’m _right here_ , okay? Those jackasses didn’t hurt me. I haven’t hurt myself – I’m not _gonna_ hurt myself.”

“Except you are,” Rodney replied, shaking his head. He stood still and trusting in Sheppard’s grip. “I get that what happened sucked big time, but—“

“I said all the right things,” John said, startling the other man. “I said everything I needed to say to stay right here. The truth is, Rodney, that I would’ve felt a little bad about shooting those clowns – but not _that_ bad. I’d have chalked it up as an unfortunate thing, but I wouldn’t have let it rip me up. They were _enemies_ , Rodney; they became my enemies the instant they compromised me. I _kill_ enemies that compromise me, McKay – you know that. I kill ‘em or, at least, I do my level best to kill ‘em. Those three bastards would have been a small blip on my moral radar.”

Rodney nodded slowly. “I know. You’ve always been… expedient. You feel bad when you can’t save the people that need it, but you’ve never flinched away from eliminating the bad guys.”

John snorted and let go of the scientist. “Yeah, I’m a really good killer.”

“Yes, you are. Good thing for the rest of us that you also believe strongly in doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, well, it helps that O’Neill’s been in similar situations.”

Rodney frowned. “So, he wasn’t here to assess you for removal?”

“Hell, no. He was here to see how much of a choke he had to put on my chain to keep me in line. They _need_ me out here, Rodney. My gene, my skill set… they know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the Wraith from getting to Earth. It’s why they look the other way for you when yet another crybaby runs home to the SGC, whining about what a big ol’ meanie-head you are – they need you out here, too.”

Rodney glared at him and John grinned, unrepentant.

“So Jack was here to make sure you wouldn’t scare the crap out of the IOA.”

John’s smile was coolly sarcastic. “They like their pet soldiers to look all kinds of shiny and noble, and pay no attention to how dirty our hands get furthering their goals for the SGC.”

Rodney snorted. “That sounds about right.”

“Mmmm. On the plus side, O’Neill is a huge fan of Ronon’s report writing skills. I think he’d have Ronon standing up as a report writing instructor if Earth bureaucracy would let him get away with training people to turn in truncated sentences and paragraphs.”

Rodney gave a little smile. “Yes; brevity being the soul of wit, and all that, our Ronon is possibly the wittiest man we’ve ever met.”

At that, John laughed and Rodney grinned, delighted to hear the honestly amused sound.

“John,” he said, and winced when Sheppard’s good humor fell away. “John, just… let me get this said. Everyone here – those of us that work closest with you – we understand, alright? And we support you. We know you’re not a _murderer_. You’ve got a killer skill-set, literally, because you were trained to have one. Nobody can realistically expect you to be trained one way and react another; it’s stupid to expect otherwise.”

“So whaddya want from me, Rodney?” asked John, wary.

“I want you to stop being angry at yourself for being pushed that far. You reacted _normally_ for what was done to you and it’s important _you_ know that the people you work closest with know that, too. I want you to stop being worried that even if you can’t trust most of the base personnel, you can at least trust Ronon and Teyla… and even me.”

“Rodney.” Sheppard took hold of McKay’s shoulders this time; gripped firmly and gave him a small shake. “ _Of course_ I can trust you.”

“Really?” The vulnerability tore at John a little bit. “Only… there was… there was Arcturus. And on the _Aurora_ you said—“

“Stupid things,” John muttered. “I said a few stupid things. You _did_ a few stupid things, I _said_ ‘em… Rodney, I trust you, and I’m sorry I made you think that isn’t true.”

“Well… okay,” Rodney replied, surprised and appreciative. “I mean: apology accepted. And… me, too. I mean…”

John smiled and squeezed the other man’s shoulders. “Yeah, I know. We’re cool.”

“ _You_ are, remember? Me, I’m fine.”

Sheppard snorted and let go of Rodney – and then, blinked in surprise when Rodney caught his left hand and held onto it. “McKay?”

Pink with embarrassment, Rodney cleared his throat. Not meeting John’s gaze, he asked, “Are we going to do anything about the – the – you know.”

Part of John wanted to be deliberately obtuse, but he didn’t have the energy for it. “DADT is still active, y’know.”

Rodney swallowed hard and dropped John’s hand. “Yes. True. Yes, it is.”

John caught Rodney’s hand.

McKay blinked down at their joined hands, and then lifted his gaze to John’s and blinked again.

John grinned, utterly amused and charmed by the other man. He shook their hands; a little jiggle of communication.

“Do you _want_ to do anything about the ‘you-know’?” Sheppard asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“Do I—? What kind of insane question is _that?_ ” Rodney demanded to know.

“It’s not insanity, McKay – it’s being thoughtful of the _other person_ involved. That’d be you, in this case.”

Rodney glared. “Yes, thank you – genius, here. Well aware of when I’m involved in something or not!”

“Cough-Allina-Cough,” John shot back.

“You’re not actually supposed to _say_ the ‘cough’ part and what are you: twelve?”

“No, just wondering: are we? Involved or not, I mean.”

“That – well – are you sure you want to be involved with me? You manage to put up with me as just friends, but if we become more—“

“ _You_ manage to put up with _me_ ,” John pointed out. “Why do you think this is a lopsided thing? Like I’ve got all the good and you’ve got all the bad?”

Rodney scowled. “I don’t! It’s just that I – well – I admire you.” He lifted his chin; a pugnacious gesture. “Don’t try to make me say that again.”

“Mm-hmm. Guess it’d surprise you to know I admire you right back.”

“Um… yes.”

John smiled. “Okay, lemme ask this: do you want me? As in: do you want to put your hands and mouth on me and keep me all to yourself?”

Rodney went bright, _bright_ red – but he was staring at John’s face, John’s mouth, with ardent intensity.

“Because, if you do,” John said, stepping closer to the other man; right into McKay’s personal space, “I gotta tell ya: I’d be okay with that.”

“Even though DADT is still lurking about?”

“We’ve both held top secret clearances for a long time now. I’m pretty sure we both know how to be discreet – not that I think anyone’s going to be looking too hard for evidence, that kiss in the Gateroom aside. SGC’s pretty good about looking the other way on occasion.”

“What about when I inevitably mess up?” Rodney fretted, shifting a little bit closer to Sheppard.

“What about when _I_ mess up?”

“You wouldn’t—“

“I’ll probably be staring at you,” John said, “and forgetting I probably shouldn’t be letting everyone see the dopey smile on my face while I think about all the things I like about you.”

“All the – things? Plural? You like plural things about me?”

John’s grin stretched wider across his face. “Want me to prove it?”

Rodney’s blue eyes widened for a brief moment. Then, relaxing, he smirked at the other man and pulled John in tight against him.

“Yes.”

 

*~*~*~*

 

An hour or so later, the two of them were lying in the wreckage of the bedclothes and each other as they struggled for breath.

“Gonna… need… more… data!” Rodney gasped, giving the ceiling above him a dazed, doofy grin.

John grunted against his ribs as he lay in a limp sprawl along Rodney’s side. “Later: God, you, and my penis willing.”

“Shut up ‘fore you jinx us!” Rodney mumbled back around a yawn. He turned over to drape his arm across John’s shoulders.

“Mmmm.”

As John fell asleep against him and began to snore, Rodney thought tiredly, _I can hardly believe I have this. It’s almost too impossible. Mine; mine, mine, mine._

He fell asleep, utterly content.

 

End


End file.
